


The Black Parade. (Tell me I'm original.)

by xthesettingsunx



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Best Friends, Birthday, Love Confessions, M/M, The Black Parade, dead!frank, dead!gerard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2724914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xthesettingsunx/pseuds/xthesettingsunx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard wants Frank to come home, and ends up finding him in the oddest of places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Black Parade. (Tell me I'm original.)

**Author's Note:**

> Much like my other works, this isn't exactly correct. The website messes up and takes all my bolding/italics out and so on. This story isn't all too good, BECAUSE I WROTE THIS PATHETIC SHIT IN MIDDLE SCHOOL LMAO I'M GONNA COMMIT IT IS RIDICULOUS

Gerard held the bottle in his hands tightly, the sharp mid fall air rushing through him as he chugged down another swipe of the dreadful clear liquid in his bottle. It burned his throat as it went down, it made his hazel eyes water with discomfort. But the more it blurred his mind, the more he drank it. “H-Happy birthday Frankie..” Gerard choked, grasping his Vodka bottle as he sat in his dirty porch chair, his snowy blond hair sticking to his forehead. October 31st was always a dreadful day, it was Frank’s birthday, and today marked the day he would have turned 33 years old. But today would also mark the third year he’s been missing. Gerard has still been waiting, waiting for his best friend to come back, to just be okay. But Frank still hasn’t returned to him, he hasn’t burst through the door to jump into Gerard’s arms and tell him it’s all been some silly little joke he played. 

Kids dressed as pumpkins, demons, ghosts, all the same old Halloween atire, all stared as they walked by his house. Gerard was the neighborhood weirdo, the guy that never left his house unless it was to get much needed supplies, the guy who never attened neighborhood parties, the guy who scared everyones kids with his drunken behaviors. He wasn’t that bad of a person, if you dug beneath all the hate, sadness and beer you would find the soul of an outgoing, bright artist who had meaning in the world. But nobody wanted to dig under all the layers he has set before himself, it’s all too much for people. 

Even his little brother, Mikey Way has stopped coming around once a month, he can’t stand the reek of booze and depression that comes with Gerard. His family has tried to help, they really have, but he pushes them away. Mikey of all people know how much Frank meant to Gerard so he never pushed it, but this was extreme. How could somebody ever mean so much to him? How could anybody become so reliable on another person to make them happy? Gerard always made himself happy with art, all forms of it, until he met Frank. Frank became his world, his motivation, his love for life, his hope for the world. Was it pathetic? Sort of, of course. You can’t rely on somebody to provide you with happiness, because that person won’t always be around, you have to make yourself happy. But Gerard didn’t care if that’s how it should be, he missed Frank, he needed Frank. He stared back at the children and they quickened their pace, looking away and whispering in hushed tones, no doubt talking about the horrifying grin plastered on Gerard’s drunken face. Gerard stood up in an all too fast movement, groaning and holding his head. Where was he even going to go? The woods, he always went there on Frank’s birthday, and he better hurry before it’s too dark out. He slowly walks down the steps on his front porch, trying not to trip on his way down. Kids are staring as he walks down the street, trying to stay as far away as they can. Nobody wants to get too close, because nobody in the neighborhood has actually heard him speak. Does he talk? Of course, he talks to himself all the time. But not to other people, no. He drags himself past the back of the complex and into the shaded area behind the houses. Beyond here is a large, circle area of woods that covers a few hundred acrers. Here is some place that Gerard goes every year on Frank’s birthday, but he doesn’t know why. For some reason, it feels right to go there and pass out on the soft, muddy ground and wake up with a not as bad hangover as he should have. He pushes past a few thick branches and stumbles into the world of the woods. He’s still clutching his Vodka bottle as he trots for a few minutes, to the center of the woods and plopping down onto the ground, sitting as if he was invited to an old friend’s house. He liked it here, it remained quiet most the time. Gerard had come to hate loud noises, except for his music which, well, was very loud. He chugged down the remainder of his poison, eyes shut tight as he lets the lethal substance slide down his throat. His stomach churns with pain as he drops the bottle, letting it rest at his side as he doubles over in pain. His head is spinning, and he’s throwing up, his throat is on fire. Gerard’s hands are digging into the Earth, wheezing as he vomits anything inside him into the now reeking Earth, body racking with pain, His limbs felt overly heavy and his head was too dizzy to make complete thoughts, his stomach was churning in protest to all the beer and Vodka he’s devoured in the last few hours. He can feel the burn in his veins, seeping into his bloodstream and setting his muscles on fire. It hurts horribly, it feels like death. The world is a giant blur, his hazel eyes focused upon the sky. He swears he can hear the distant roar of a marching band, or maybe it’s all in his head, the sound of the drum. Gerard falls flat on his back, pure alcohol leaking down his chin. All he wants to do now is sleep, he’s so tired. And even in his state, it hits him. He’s dying. Gerard’s eyelids droop over his eyes, pulling him into sleep. Everything is dark, and there’s that distant roar of a drum, of heavy footsteps. He can’t see anything, he can’t do anything, in fact, all he can do is listen to the steady sound of a marching band approaching, getting closer and closer. He wants to move, he wants to push the overwhelming sound away because here, in this black void, he’s sober. Gerard hates being sober, because he can think, he can feel all the things he’s been running from all this time. All the left behind emotions he’d tried to burry beneath the surface begin clawing their way out, eating and chewing at him until he’s nothing but a shell. The pound of the drum is getting louder, steadier. Thump, thump, thumpety thump. It’s close, he can feel the ground shaking now, he knows they are going to walk right over him if he doesn’t just move already, but he can’t figure out how to move, he’s forgotten how to even feel.  Just get up and move, dude, he thinks to himself, wiggling around in the empty void. Well, no, he isn’t moving, because he has no body to move. He is just simply there, listening to the marching band approach. Why a marching band? Why is a god damn marching band walking into the woods, or whatever in the world this dark void could be? Gerard wants to panic, but the steady sounds of the marching band keep him oddly calm. He doesn’t like this, he doesn’t like the fact that the marching band is keeping him calm, because he hates marching bands, he always has, they remind him of when he was a young boy. Gerard’s father loved to go see parades and marching bands, he simply adored them, and when Gerard was 7, took him along to see a marching band. That was a week before his father divorced his mother and left them for another family,a family he loved more apparently. Ever since, he’s hated these things, and the fact that it was keeping him calm bothered him deeply. Now the sound was in his ear, it was right beside him, then suddenly, the drum cut off, followed by the other assorted instruments abruptly cutting off. The blackness of the void was beginning to fade, a small, weak light poked through in holes at first, then cracked, and soon Gerard could see again. This place was different than before though, there was of course, the long line of the marching band that looked as if it could stretch on forever, but all the vibrant green grass was dead and yellow, the whole place looked like it had suffered a wild fire, everything was ashy and dead. Gerard swallowed, daring to look up, eyes meeting with cold black ones. “Gerard Way.” The man says in a monotone voice, standing up straight. This, is obviously the conductor of the parade. His black suit with gold shoulder cuffs and buttons makes him different, as the others are dressed in multiple things, from parade suits to dresses to jeans and shirts. He holds his conductor stick, skin pale white and wrinkled horribly. He is centuries old, there’s no way he couldn’t be. He points his conductors stick to an area a few feet down, arm stiff. “There.” He says, and Gerard furrows his eyebrows. All these people look dead, they are sickly pale with bloodshot eyes and purplish lips, their eyes are sunken in and dreary with grief. For a moment he pities them, but them he remembers this is where he’s going, the conductor is telling him to join. He shakes his head in protest, happy to feel the light weight of his own body again as he stands. The conductor doesn’t look phased, but amused by this act of rebellion. “Iero. Come forth, take Way to your group.” He speaks, and Gerard freezes for a moment. Iero?That’s Frank’s last name, there’s no way he misheard that. He looks down to the group he was told to join to see a short man step out of the crowd, looking tired and sickly as he looked at Gerard, face contorting into a surprised, pained, and happy look all at once. Gerard feels accomplished at that moment, because he has finally found Frank, in some weird marching band with a demon conductor. But that part doesn’t matter, because here Frank is. Oddly, he’s still in the battered skinny jeans and Nirvana shirt he was wearing when he went out to buy some cigarettes on the night he went missing, but Gerard was too happy to care. On the other hand, Frank was not happy. Gerard didn’t realize it, but this wasn’t any old marching band, this was The Black Parade. Frank out stretched his arm, offering Gerard a ghostly hand, a gesture to show he wanted him to join. If Frank wanted him to join, of course he would, so he reached forward and grabbed his hand, locking them together. Frank felt cold, which wasn’t right because one of the things Gerard had always liked best about Frank is that he was warm. He frowned, letting the shorter boy lead him into the center of their group. Everybody in this group was dressed in similar things, jeans and old band shirts, converse and VANS. Frank sighed, pulling out a pack of what look liked cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one out and lighting it. You could smoke here? Frank then gave the others hanging around them a warning look, making them all shuffle away. “Gerard. You’re here.” Frank finally says when he’s finished with his cancer stick, a disappointed look in his dark green eyes. Gerard nods, more happy than he should be. But given credit, he doesn’t know he’s dead yet. Frank looked at the ground, huffing in a heavy moment and raking his fingers through his hair. “Hey, you bleached your hair. No more black.” Frank comments, staring at the white locks on his best friends head. Gerard grinned and nodded, self consciously reaching up to touch his hair. “Like it?” He asked, and Frank nodded. “Gee, you do know what this is, right? The Black Parade?” Frank finally sighed, raising an eyebrow. Gerard shook his head, shrugging. “Uh, Black Parade? No...should I know?” He mumbled. Frank rolled his eyes, not because he was mad with Gerard necessarily, he was just mad he was here. “Well, to get to the point, this is The Black Parade, where the damned go after they die. If you’ve done something, like screw lots of people over, you end up here. Either that or you didn’t bother to really try to live and basked in your own pity or some crap. So, if the parade gets you, you’re dead, or you were close to dying..how did you end up here?” Frank trails off, curious. Gerard snickers at him, thinking this is some dumb game, but as he looked around he fell silent. Frank was right. This wasn’t normal, everybody looked dead and in grief, looking sad     and dead.

He was dead? Gerard had always figured he wouldn't mind death, but it was so different now that he was being told, looked dead in the eye, and hearing the words “You’re dead.” Did he want to be dead? Sure he did, but not like this. How did he even die? The last he remembers is passing out on the woods floor in a drunk heap of flesh. How could that kill him? Then, Gerard remembers the burning sensation flooding his veins, pouring into his bloodstream. Suddenly he understands, he thinks he had alcohol poisoning. “Uh, well..I- every year I come to the woods on your birthday- I guess I was too drunk this time..alcohol poisoning maybe? I just- why are you here? Oh god Frankie, I’ve been looking and waiting! You’re dead?!” He panics, staring at Frank, reaching out to grab his hand again, scared he was going to evaporate before him and slip away, leave him. Frank seems a little amused by this, but realizes he is in fact the reason for Gerard’s self destruction. “Well, yeah man..did you think I was still alive?” He asked, slumping his shoulders. Gerard clenched his teeth, stopping himself from yelling. “How?” He muttered after a minute, looking at Frank. Frank still didn’t know exactly how he died, but it was something along the lines of some guys beating him up until his asthma shut his lungs down. “Some guys who didn’t like gays beat me up, guess my asthma killed me? I don’t really remember it.” He sighed, biting at his pale pink lower lip. Gerard felt drunk all over again, a whirlwind of sad, angry, surprised, and scared emotions spun through him like a ballerina, one feeling overwriting another as quick as the first had gotten there. Why wouldanybody want to hurt Frank? He certainly opposed no threat, considering he was so small and short, skinny and sickly. Frank’s immune system was crap, it hardly helped him to fight any sickness that attacked him. So why would people gang up on somebody, knowing just by their size how defenseless they were? Why would somebody kill his best friend and throw him into the forest, to just let him rot, to let people frantically search and mourn over him? It wasn’t right, it was more than horrible, it was outright disgusting in every way. Gerard stepped forward and looked into the green eyes he had missed so much, and it pained him so badly, his life had been taken far too early, he didn’t deserve this. He grabbed his arms, sighing softly and shaking his head. “They took you, just because they didn’t like the fact you were gay? You had to of known ‘em, otherwise they wouldn’t have hurt you, right? Who were they?” Gerard asked, eyes searching for any recollection in Frank’s innocent eyes. Frank looked away, swallowing. “I don’t remember.” He persisted.  And honestly, he didn’t. The only significant things he remebered from his life were Gerard, playing guitar, smoking, and loving tatoos. It wasn’t much but he held onto those facts and repeated them to himself. The others would sometimes catch him mumbling the things he knew about himself aloud, but they never minded. Gerard was infuriated by this though, how could he just not remeber? He wanted to make the bastards pay for what they did, it was only fair to ruin their lives for taking Franks, right? But then an unsettling reality hit Gerard. Even if Frank knew who had done this to him, he could never do anything about it because he was dead and he couldn’t do anything about that either. He could never help Frank and he could never help him get his revenge. “Oh. yeah, sorry, I’m new at this.” Gerard mumbled more to himself than Frank, and Frank nodded understandingly. “ ‘S all good man.  So uh..how is Lyn-z?” Frank asked in a bitter voice. He knew he should of waited longer to ask, but he couldn’t help it. He hated her and he openly admitted it, he hated her to the point that he would push her down a well if he had the chance. And why? Because Gerard was dating her. He should of been happy his best friend found a girl to love, right? Well he wasn’t, because in his eyes Gerard was his, only his and nobody else was allowed to have him at any point. Maybe it was overly obsessive or odd, but he loved Gerard. And that was the issue. He didn’t just love Gerard as a brother, he didn’t love him as a best friend and see him as family, he was far past that and was deeply in love with the comic book loving artist. He’d spent spent half of his teenage years obsessing over the boy and despite their three year age difference, they’d been friends since elmentry school which is probably what formed the unhealthy bond between them. Both boys had an unhealthy relationship with each other, they were hardly ever apart and lacked boundries. They hugged and cuddled and shared beds at sleepovers, they shared drinks and sat on each others laps without it being awkward and other people would point this out, but they didn’t see a problem there. 

 

Frank was always younger and smaller than everybody which gave Gerard the sense that he had to protect him and look out for him, and Gerard was older and awkward which made Frank feel less worthless. All in all, they relyed on each other far too much. Gerard had even gone as far as to beating kids up who bulled Frank when they were three years younger than him, he’d broken one kids nose and went through hell to get the family to drop the charges. And the question Frank had always wanted to ask, and now had the chance to ask, was simple. Had Gerard ever loved him in the same way? Ofcourse, anybody with common sense knew Gerard was head over heels for Frank, it was so utterly clear. And no man would drink himself to death if it had only been a friendship, no, Gerard was so depressed because he lost what could have been. Gerard’s lips twitched into a frown and he wrinked his nose in distaste. “Her? Broke up with her a few days after you went missing. Wasn’t too found of her in the first place.” He shrugged and this was all Frank needed to be a little less grumpy all the time. He had left her, he had been the one to cut things off. And now he had to ask, he had to go ahead and get it over with. “Gee, I have an important question.” The shorter man murmured, fumbling with his lighter as he lit another cigarrete. Gerard nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Well?” He asked, and Frank blew out a puff of smoke.

“Did you ever love me?”

Everything stopped, at least it felt like it did. Gerard immdiaetly knew what he meant, and he grew nervous. What was he suppose to say? Gerard had alwas claimed to be straight, which he obviously wasn’t, even his own mother could see that, and now Frank was asking if he was in love with him? He had to be honest, they were dead so it wouldn’t make much of a difference right? Gerard gave him a dry smile, nodding. “Yeah.. Frankie, I did. I do.” He confirmed, and Frank looked up in surprise, dropping the remains of his cigarette because he honestly wasn’t expecting that answer, he’d been expecting “Yeah, you’re my best friend man!”, but no, Gerard had knew what he meant and he had saidyes. Frank felt like shouting out in happinness and spinnig around and jumping into Gerard’s arms all at once because this was so god damn wonderful, so perfect even if they were both dead. But now it was Gerards turn to ask the questions.

“Did you love me Frank?”

Frank remebers he has yet to say anything back or even make a move to show he has a valid repsonse, so he steps closer to the man looking down at him, smiles and drops his voice down to  whisper. “I always have.”

And this would have been a happy ending for them both if it hadn’t been for the fact Gerard wasn’t fully dead yet, and he hadn’t went through his trials yet. Frank knew this, and he knew that Gerard would be moved away into a far away group if they lt the conductor or any certain people in the parade find out they knew each other and were..what were they? Frank would ask later. “There are still a lot of things you gotta do, like your trials. They might even move you out of the parade if they think you desrve to join Battery City, it’s where all the good people get to go. I hear the Better Living Industries is a huge scam though and these two rebels, Kobra Kid and Jet Star are tryin’ to take ‘em down, so they haven’t moved anybody there in a while even if people are suppose to go. But when they sort all that out a huge group of people in the parade are moving into the city. They just don’t want anybody to join Kobra and Jet I guess.” Frank shrugged, but Gerard wasn’t fully paying attention. He was interested in Frank, too invested in listening to the way his words rolled off his tongue. “I’’m not going anywhere without you, Frank, it’s us against the world.”

￼

           


End file.
